


What do You Want, Eve?

by trelawney99



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Assassin Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Bottom Eve Polastri, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fanfiction, Fluff, Gay, Homoeroticism, I Ship It, Inspired by Killing Eve (TV 2018), Love, My First Work in This Fandom, OTP Feels, Romance, Smut, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24543850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trelawney99/pseuds/trelawney99
Summary: I have no idea where this will go... but imagine we had an extra ten minutes of the Killing Eve finale. This is what I've written about in this chapter. I promise it'll get more exciting; Eve and V will get their happy ending. Of course, it wouldn't be any fun without obstacles but I fKin PROMISE YOU, they are together. Canonically.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Kudos: 58





	1. The Beginning of the End

Chapter 1- The beginning of the End  
If Villanelle hadn’t smiled back at Eve with the wind in her hair, night-time against the left of her face, Eve would’ve chased her anyway. She has a tendency, lately, to chase people who don’t need chasing, but that’s not to say she wasn’t tired of doing so. With the bridge dimly lit, a yolky glow from the street lamps and drunks singing in the near distance, she had never been so overcome with love. Never felt so safe…there, in front of a bridge. In front of Villanelle. They watch on at one another before Eve shakes her head, laughs, and shouts, ‘well, why aren’t you coming back?!’  
‘I’m a boomerang, Eve!’ she yells, running towards Eve like a child having found their mother in a supermarket. When she reaches Eve’s side, she holds her shoulders, pulls her in closely and says, ‘but tell me I’m your baby and you’ll never leave me.’ This is when Eve notices V’s inky eyes watering, nose flaring in its usual way.  
For a moment, Eve’s mouth opens but nothing comes out, a gaping hole. Perhaps she’s so used to responding this way: shaking her head in shame, lying on impulse, accepting the life she’s worked so hard for. She thinks back to where it all started, the very first time Villanelle stood in front of her. A gun in her hand, ready to shoot. Look at her now, Eve thinks, so changed. So new.  
‘I don’t think I’ll get sick of telling you how you changed my life. You remember everything, don’t you?’ Eve takes one of Villanelle’s hands, its fingertips having pinkened from the cold, ‘but now I’m going to tell you that from the moment I met you, I’ve always wanted you to change my life. I hate how much I’ve needed you, how hearing your voice has done enough to pull me through days in that shitty office. It’s not that… It’s not that I won’t leave you. It’s that I can’t. But you better not pull one of these stunts again, don’t scare me like this. Walking away from me as though you truly could.’  
Eve thinks about how tired she is of standing in front of this woman, having to look up to her and never being the one seeing Villanelle from above. They’ve not done it enough, sat side by side and held each other.  
‘You know what?’ villanelle starts, ‘I don’t want to fight you on buses anymore. I just want to-,’  
‘Have sex with me, so you’ve said before-,’  
‘No, Eve. Well, yes, but I want to eat dinner with you. I tried it once and you were like… really scared of me. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want you with me,’ her sniffling continues, her nose a little rosy and loose strands of hair hanging at the sides of her face, ‘I love you, Eve,’ she whispers into Eve’s ear, and kisses her neck beneath.  
Villanelle zips Eve’s coat up, sniggering at the same parka coat she’s always known Eve to wear. I’ll be getting her a new one of these, she thinks, noticing the hems fraying on the sleeves. It might’ve been a pure charcoal grey before, but now it was dusty and over worn. She’s really chased me too many times in this coat. It is here, at the bridge before the running water, the two vow to make changes. When Villanelle puts her hands in the pockets of Eve’s coat, she rests her chin on her head, and Eve whispers into Villanelle’s chest, ‘I love you too, but we need something new.’  
‘Where are we going? Your friend wants us to go to Turkey.’


	2. Chapter 2- The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle begin their getaway, making a pitstop at a London hotel on their way out of town. I hope you enjoy this one. Sorry about yet another c*ckblock.

Chapter 2- The Hotel

Eve and Villanelle are like hippies without the Volkswagen; they plan on leaving with barely any of their belongings, just a few sentimental things Eve has kept: favourite sweater, books, a necklace… that sort of thing. At first, Villanelle decides she needs nothing from her old life but on second thought, reaches for a half-empty perfume bottle, a peony-scented puddle at the bottom of the glass tube. Eve is confused… but so is Villanelle. She just wanted to appear normal, like Eve, like someone who could become truly attached to something out of love, not infatuation. They leave Eve’s apartment with a rucksack each and walk towards the car park in the city. Here, Villanelle has left a car they’ll take with them- no planes, no passports, but it’s too late for them to make travel plans now. If they wanted to, they could easily have seven hours of sleep with nobody coming after them, and without either of them laying down with a knife or gun in hand. Villanelle begins the drive out of London and checks the two of them into Saint’s House Hotel.  
“Hey, look. I’m on their website, it says a night is just- FOUR HUNDRED AND SEVENTY POUNDS? No, come on. Keep driving, that’s insane. We can head towards-,” Eve says as they park up near the hotel.

“I’m tired, Eve. Ya, three hundred and seventy, but they have really comfortable, velvet sofas. They don’t make me itch. When you take a bath with me and try their breakfast in the morning, you’ll be thanking me. Let’s go,” Villanelle responds, quite condescendingly… as if to remind Eve she was once a high-paid assassin provided with the upmost luxury when it came to hotels. 

Eve won’t bicker with Villanelle anymore; she has no reason to. And, if the woman she loved was going to put her up in a Georgian-styled hotel, rub some fancy lotion into her throbbing shoulders, and feed her fancy, French pastries, complaining would have been beyond ungrateful.

“Uh, hi. A room for two, please?” Eve looks down at her outfit, then at Villanelle’s, realising she doesn’t quite fit in here.   
The receptionist has her hair pinned back into a neat bun, no static flyaways around her forehead, and her lips buttered in a sheer, red lipstick. Of course, this woman wasn’t too young, maybe mid-thirties, Eve thought, but she bore no signs of ageing, no creases, or purple stains around her eyes. A neat but snooty façade. Eve’s embarrassment did not go unnoticed by Villanelle, who watched Eve stutter as she tried to book the room. 

Villanelle interrupts, “we want the Belgravia Boutique. I’ve stayed before so my name will be in your little book. I always come alone but isn’t it time I treat my girlfriend?” she puts an arm around Eve whose head turns to the side to accommodate a kiss from Villanelle, on her cheek. 

Villanelle gives her name followed by a sarcastic grin, grabs Eve’s backpack from her, and carries them up to their room. Eve has never stayed in a place like this. Sure, she’d seen them in the flesh but only at crime scenes or when hunting Villanelle down. Un-papered, rustic-red brick walls, and large, oak window frames dressed in Baroque style curtains. The room stretched far beyond the entrance, and at the rear sat a copper bathtub before sliding, balcony doors. They looked at it, then at one another, and laughed; they’d be making time for that bath… even if the night was quickly drawing to an end. Villanelle dropped their bags by the door and watched on at a curious Eve, whose fingers were tracing the walls as she explored the room. The bed’s countless, decorative cushions: Baroque covers like the curtains, crimson swirls with flickers of gold across them. Hanging portraits of artwork Eve had never seen before- life models with hourglass figures and chalky skin. A mauve, velvet sofa which she knew would soon feature a sprawled-out Villanelle, relaxing and feeling no discomfort from the high- quality fabric. It was truly like something out of a film and Eve thought she could spend the rest of her life here, content, with the woman she’d only just agreed to love. It seemed surreal that these two would finally get their happy ending, so the atmosphere shifted when Eve realised, she was technically on her first date. Because they were changed now, this was a new chapter, so they needed to start again. 

“I checked for ghosts last time I came, Eve, why are you afraid?” Villanelle asks, making her way towards Eve, who has perched on the side of the copper tub.  
“Don’t you feel like any minute now, someone’s going to come for you and you’re gonna tell me to run?”

“No. Nobody’s coming but if they do, I’ll say we run. Not you. We. Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’ve been thinking, for the last hour, that I might go vegan,” she reaches for the menu left on a coffee table and flicks through, “oh, hey. What’s this mozzarella and tomato thing? Served on a bed of-,”

“Mozzarella is cheese. Vegans don’t eat cheese…” Eve interrupts.

“Seriously? Well, what about going gluten-free? Could I do that?”

“Why do you need a dietary requirement? Look at this menu… God, don’t force yourself to have one and limit yourself.”

“Normal people have those diet things, don’t they? Someone always wants a beef burger without the beef,” Villanelle continues. 

Her desire to normalise herself, to fit in amongst the ordinary, just doesn’t sit right with Eve. She takes the menu from Villanelle’s hands, looks up to her for a few seconds then kisses her lips, biting them and wrapping her arms around Villanelle’s waist, “please, eat the mozzarella,” Eve says.  
Villanelle stands lad-ish, her hands in her trouser pockets and raises an eyebrow. She’s smirking, surprised at her new Eve, “I like it better when you kiss me then headbutt me. It gives you an edge,” Villanelle winks. 

She phones downstairs for room service, ordering her mozzarella ‘thing’; she still hasn’t checked what it actually is, just that it has tomatoes too, straight off the vine. Eve will have a Portobello mushroom on sourdough, with all sorts of garnishes that neither of them can be bothered to read. Villanelle adds a tiramisu, a lemon cheesecake, and bottle of elderflower press… purely because she’s never tried them. There’s no way she’ll eat everything, she probably wont even finish her main but the gluttonous side of her shrugs and adds them anyway. With Eve still stood beside the bath, Villanelle pushes her up against it, her palms pressing against the rim, locking Eve in. 

“It’ll be some time, Eve. Thirty minutes,” she says.

“And what do you want to do whilst we wait? You haven’t even tried the couch yet,” Eve replies.

Her breath is warm on the tip of Eve’s nose, their hips touching, Villanelle’s eyes wandering over Eve’s face. She notices her hair first, like usual, bouncy and a little knotty at the ends. Then her lips, pouty and always slightly separated, as if waiting for something to enter. Villanelle has missed the anticipation, the way she could never quite reach Eve and for a minute, she considers stepping back and saying something about the room, planning their next move. It would infuriate Eve, who was feeling her heart palpitate and doing everything to fight the urge of kissing Villanelle. Of touching her, undressing her, tracing her fingers along Villanelle’s naked torso. This image she’d had too many times. Villanelle had many similar images too, ones of Eve in nothing, insecure and trying her best to ensure villanelle only looks at her face. Stupid… why would Villanelle walk away from the woman she’d been chasing so long? She finally had her, and both gave in to their instincts.   
Villanelle pulls Eve’s sweater up over her head and throws it on the floor. Eve in a red, lacey bra wouldn’t excite Villanelle, it was Eve in her innocence, her casual, beige bra not expecting anyone to see, that Villanelle loved. ‘Finally,’ she says, kissing Eve’s chest. She unclasps the bra, Eve’s breasts still standing exactly where they were, and circles a nipple with her tongue, Eve moaning softly into Villanelle’s hair. With assistance from an out-of-control Eve whose moans persisted without Villanelle even touching her, Villanelle removes everything she’s wearing, and unzips Eve’s trousers, pushing her onto the bed. Using her teeth, she rips Eve’s knickers off, biting her inner thighs and caressing Eve’s hips with her hands. Then she looks up at Eve, ready to ask if she’s sure this time, but her eagerness is blatantly obvious. Villanelle inserts her middle finger inside Eve, palm facing upwards, and rolls her tongue around her clit.

The door knocks, ‘Ma’am? Room service.’

Villanelle shakes her head, laughing, then buries it in Eve’s lap, ‘what an impatient asshole,’ she names the waiter.


	3. Chapter 3- Cotswold Pit Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're supposed to be starting fresh, settling into a new place... but a message brings the pair confusion. What are they supposed to do now???

Chapter 3- Cotswold Pit Stop

The following evening, Eve and Villanelle reach a hillside barn they’d decided on, in the Cotswolds. There’s nothing neat about the place, a quality Villanelle has always loved in housing. At the back of the barn, they spot a small, square hot tub on the patio, with string lights decorating the surrounding posts. It’s a small yard- trellises dressed in ivy and delicate flowers, shrubbery acting as fencing around the sides, viciously catching on Villanelle’s coat as she saunters past. They sit here, on a wooden, swinging bench, before even going inside. The barn stands at the very top of the hill, an old post office apparently, and the two watch the evening fade before unpacking their rucksacks and finding something to eat. Tonight’s a little warmer than yesterday, and the sun sets in shades of orange and pink, like it might in the summer. 

“There’s a pub at the bottom of the hill, we drove past it. Google says it closes at ten, if you’d wanna eat there?” Eve asks.

“Don’t panic, Eve, but they’re calling me again. I turned my phone off and whenever we pass a lake, I’ll throw it in. But maybe you should turn yours off too,” Villanelle says, her gaze retreating to the sunset, away from a concerned Eve.

“Huh? Wait, what do you mean? The twelve?” She asks, “Look at me, Villanelle.”

“Oh, come on. Look, we’ve left. They’ll never find us here! You literally got me to the English countryside. That’s how much I want to be with you. Just you, Eve. You’re overreacting!” Villanelle takes the key from under the welcome mat and lets herself in. 

On the dining table, Villanelle finds a welcome note that reads ‘Enjoy your stay, honeymooners!’ in cursive ink, propped up against a wicker basket. She opens the lid to find floral, china teacups with a matching teapot, croissants covered in cellophane, and a small, ceramic pot of strawberries. It must’ve been left there today because it was certainly fresh enough to eat. With a rumbling in her stomach, she unwraps the pastries and helps herself to one, then finds a box of early grey teabags beside the basket. 

“Hey, Eve, how do you make these? Who’s Earl Grey?” She asks, a gold flake of pastry sticking to her lower lip. 

“Who’s calling you, Villanelle?”

“You are… and it’s annoying me.”

“No, your phone. Who is calling your-,” Eve snaps as Villanelle peers in the fridge for milk, and tugs on her sleeve, “hey! Seriously you are ruining this. If you’re honest with me, we can fix it.”

Villanelle turns to face her, the crumb still on her lip. She tells Eve to promise her that… to promise her she won’t run again. Eve reminds her they’re in the middle of nowhere, and that she’s also too hungry to run. 

“I sort of… nudged my new colleague onto the subway tracks. It was a joke, I’d have pulled her up but the tube came and-,” Villanelle punches her palm, demonstrating the way Rhian was hit, “so, yeah. 

“Don’t tell me you want to change if you’re gonna keep doing-,”

“What was I supposed to do, Eve?!” Villanelle screams, pulling a chair out from under the dining table to sit on. She rests her chin on her hand, her legs spread, and her back folding into the chair, “How can I be with you when they are always chasing me? I had to do it and believe me, I was scared. I didn’t want to!” 

“We are never going to be normal, Villanelle! Look around you, this cottage, your tea and your fucking croissants, you can’t even make tea!” Eve watches on as Villanelle’s eyes well up, inky and wet, her lip sneering. 

Eve’s instantly sorry. She perches on her knees before Villanelle, stroking her thigh in an attempt at apologising. It seems better for them to say nothing… because Eve was right. They were never going to adopt a rescue cat and name it after a fruit or their favourite snack, never going to argue over who forgot to take the bins out, left the empty, cardboard, loo-roll holder in the bathroom. They’d always be running, hiding, having to reassure each other every single day that they still loved one another, because the day’s events might’ve said otherwise. 

“They can’t find your Carolyn woman anywhere. Helene’s looking for her,” Villanelle sits upright, clearing the sadness out of her throat with a cough.

This was true. Since they couldn’t find Eve or Villanelle, they’d gone after someone who might bring the pair back. Eve was so indifferent about Carolyn. Whilst she didn’t want her to die, she didn’t love her enough to ever check in on an ordinary day. She wouldn’t meet with her if business weren’t involved… if they hadn’t found new evidence regarding Kenny’s death. They were merely friends. Eve remembers the first time she met Carolyn, rolling up to work on an empty stomach, flushed and late as usual, but desperate for Carolyn’s approval. Eve’s sure they wouldn’t harm her, they couldn’t, but she thinks about her daughter having to lose Kenny and her mother in the same month. She’d changed but she wasn’t a monster, she wasn’t going to let that happen. 

Villanelle and Eve had started drinking the gin left for them, botanical and pricey by the looks of the bottle- shimmered, cursive font on a black label. It’d been an hour or so since they discussed the messages left on V’s phone, and now they were a little drunk, they were ready to discuss and clash again, like they often did, having such dominating personalities.

“We have to go back, don’t we?” Eve asks, laying on Villanelle’s chest, in the living room.

She’d taken off most of her clothing and so had Villanelle- Eve in her underwear and sweater still, Villanelle in her bra and trousers. The fire was lit. In the last hour, they’d done everything to avoid the topic of Carolyn. They’d commented on the size of the logs left for the fire, the way it was ‘really fucking hot’ if you stood too close. 

Villanelle wraps her hand around the glass, resting it on the arm of the couch, her other arm cradling Eve, running her fingers through her unbrushed hair.  
“If I could stay here with you for the rest of my life, I would. But either you stay here and we’re apart, or you come back with me and we stay together,” Eve tells her, knowing there’s no way they’d choose the former option, “we did this the wrong way. We just ran. I’m not afraid of them anymore, whatever you have to do to get rid of them, I’ll do it with you.”

“And what if I have to kill them?”

“Well, then I’ll guard the scene and make sure nobody’s creeping up on us,” Eve laughs. She’d do a lot more if she had to, but it wasn’t particularly in her nature to admit to it. 

The following silence brings an image to Eve’s head. One of Villanelle being attacked by an entire mob of criminals, and Eve standing by useless. She sees V’s hair falling out of her hair tie, blood on her lip and sweat on her forehead.

“I’d do anything, Oksana.”

Villanelle smirks and sets her glass aside, taking Eve’s from her hand too. Then she swivels, flinging her legs over, and propping herself abruptly on top of Eve. She shakes her head softly, rubbing the tip of her nose against Eve’s then kisses it. Room service isn’t due to arrive this time, V thinks, as she starts nibbling on Eve’s neck, running her hand across her naked torso beneath her sweater. It was clear to V that Eve had slipped her bra off already but of course V was none the wiser, not with the way Eve’s breasts sat so perfectly where they were no matter how she contorted her body. 

“Anything?” V asks, her words like a breeze against Eve’s neck. 

Eve has her hands cupping Villanelle’s arse, grinding against her front and watching the wooden beams above her, move with every thrust. V has stripped completely, the concave shape of her body pressing into Eve’s. In unison, the pair moan soft grunts, encouraging each other to keep going. The room is warm, likely from the fire and combined body heat, and sweat starts to curl the front of V’s hair. The insertion of Villanelle’s two fingers inside her has Eve yelping, her thighs sticking to Villanelle’s shoulders. In all her life, nobody had ever turned her on like this. Yesterday, they’d barely gotten very far into sex before being interrupted and even then, Eve was on the verge of cumming.

“Do what you did yesterday, God I love your mouth…” Eve begs, looking down at V who rolls her tongue around Eve’s vagina again, her fingers still thrusting in and out, “Oh god, that, do that!” 

Their sex is slow, warm, sticky, and passionate. Neither have fucked like this and nobody has compared either. Eve is everything Villanelle wants, she can stand near with her hair in a high pony and V feels her lap throbbing, a sweat coming on, and her cheeks would probably turn pink if she could see them.   
“Come on Eve, I want you to cum,” V’s spitting on Eve’s clit, her hands beginning to cramp but she keeps going, screaming along with Eve who climaxes, painting a milky liquid across V’s mouth.

“Oh my- Jesus fucking Christ,” Eve says. God she’s tired. If this was Niko, he’d have came five minutes ago and Eve would be laying in bed, dry, and exhausted. But this was Villanelle.

She rolls Villanelle onto her back, not quite sure what she’s going to do, but when she sees V’s mouth hanging open, hungry, Eve spits into it, backing herself up into V’s lap. She’d seen a video once, when she first started thinking about her Oksana in a different way. In the video, the girl below put her leg across the top woman’s hip, and they pushed themselves into each other. She imitates this, her vagina slippy and thirsty for a second round. 

“Oh wow, you did your research!” V says, “What book did you see this in?” 

They laugh. Asshole. When V cums, Eve jumps up with her fists in the air, “you mean it worked? You really-,” She looks at the wet stain beneath Villanelle, proving that yes…she ‘really’, “oh my God, you actually came.”

“Jesus, in Russia we cheered like this when we knocked cans over at a fair.” 

The truth being Eve didn’t have to do much for Villanelle to climax, she could just talk and it’d probably do the trick.  
In bed, Eve lays with her head on V’s chest again, her face against her bare breasts. The room is dark but the open curtain allows the moonlight to creep in, and Eve can just about make out V’s pout, her eyelids sealed.

“You awake?” Eve asks.

“Yup, so don't run.”

“Hilarious. So tomorrow, we go back?”

“Tomorrow, we find Carolyn. Not ‘go back’, that sounds like we’re going back to our old lives. Apart, you know.”

“God, never apart. Ok, find Carolyn,” Eve agrees, planting a kiss on V’s breast.


End file.
